


Sixty Days at Pattillo & Sons

by nateyface



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-19 11:16:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2386373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nateyface/pseuds/nateyface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Geoff bets Gavin he can't make it two months on old friend Jack's dairy farm. Gavin's determined to make it work, but between Ryan the Creepy Vet and the icy attitude of Jack's right-hand man, Michael, it might be more of a challenge than he expected. Giveaway fic written for <a href="http://limelasers.tumblr.com/">limelasers</a> on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day Zero - Day Two

“You are gonna have so much fun, Gavin.” The sinister edge to Geoff's voice does nothing to convince Gavin of his sincerity. “Wave goodbye to the apartment!” He punctuates his statement by slamming the trunk shut, and Gavin can't help but flinch. It's far too late to back down now, though, since Geoff went through all the trouble of making the phone calls and arrangements with his friend. Gavin curses under his breath and slides into the passenger's seat, giving a halfhearted wave toward the apartment building just to humor Geoff.

“How long's this drive gonna be?” Gavin braces himself for the answer, especially as Geoff chuckles.

“Long as dicks, dude. Kiss the city lights goodbye.”

**Day Zero**

Gavin wakes as the car starts to crunch over a gravel road. The radio sputters inconsistently, though pop music is still audible between fizzing noises. Geoff's hands tighten on the wheel as the tires rumble across the new terrain.

“Where the hell--?” Gavin starts to ask, but Geoff just points at a sign illuminated by his headlights.

_Pattillo & Sons_

As they pass the sign, crops of varying heights and readiness come into view, and the moonlight illuminates scattered buildings across the property. Behind them, no sign of human life remains, and ahead stand only the sparse homes and barns amid what Gavin assumes are fields of corn or wheat or something. Already a sense of confusion threatens to overwhelm him in the unfamiliar territory.

“You look like you're about to snap, Gavin.” Geoff turns off the buzzing radio with a soft click. “Come on, man. We can turn around if you just wanna hand me my winnings...”

Gavin's eyes narrow. “I'm fine! Two months is nothing. Nothing!” He waves his arms as if to shuffle off the thought. “Look, it's all lovely out here. Just... lovely.”

The car stops in front of the biggest visible house. A porch light echoes softly over the uneven stone steps, and reflects warmth from the thick brass knocker. It seems friendly and... _quaint_ is the word Gavin would use. He steps out and stretches his gangly limbs as Geoff drags himself to the trunk and starts unloading Gavin's luggage.

“Ah, I thought I heard something!” The door rattles a little, but it's barely noticeable next to the booming voice of the man who opened it. “Glad you made it, guys.”

Gavin has to take a moment to absorb the presence of the person approaching him. He's tall and built thick with a lumberjack beard, but he has a bright smile and a friendly twinkle in his eye. He offers a handshake to Gavin, who accepts with as little hesitation as he can manage.

“You must be Gavin!” the towering man says cheerfully. “I'm Jack. Jack Pattillo. Welcome to the farm!”

“Great to see you, Jack,” Geoff says as he drags a duffel bag and a duct-taped suitcase toward the stairs. “Sorry in advance for Gavin's whining and begging to go home.”

Jack laughs and pats Gavin on the shoulder, nearly knocking the wind out of him from the force. “You'll be fine, seriously. It's work, but it's fun. And not to be cliche, but everyone's family here.” Gavin can't help but chuckle. “You've got nothing to worry about. Come on in, we're just sitting down for dinner. Geoff, you'll be joining us, right?”

Geoff shakes his head. “Nah, it's bad enough Gavin's gonna be gone so long, Burnie'll have a fuckin' aneurysm if I'm not at work tomorrow. I'd better start heading back.”

The gaze between Gavin and Geoff burns for a moment with Gavin's anxious determination and Geoff's silent persuasion to give up. Jack leans between the two after a moment, offering Geoff a handshake and half-hug.

“Well, it was still great to see you. Maybe you can come visit soon?” Geoff nods and strokes his moustache with a big smile.

“I'm sure I'll be back to get Gavin in no time.”

It feels all too soon to be watching the disappearing silhouette of Geoff's car, but here Gavin stands, waving in unison with Jack. The bearded gentleman invites Gavin inside with a broad gesture and carries his bags in for him. The cozy atmosphere of the house is immediately apparent - warm off-white walls in the foyer and adjacent living room, furniture in soothing blues and dark wood - and Gavin lets himself relax a little.

“We're having pot roast and mashed potatoes tonight,” Jack says cheerfully. “Do you like asparagus?”

Gavin splutters for a second, having spaced out to look around the house. “Er, y-yeah, it's fine?” He runs his hand through his sandy-brown hair and lets out a slow breath, urging himself to settle down. It does sound like a nice dinner.

“Great.” Jack stops just inside the dining room, gesturing warmly at the tidy table where two other men are seated. “Hey, guys, this is Gavin, the friend of a friend I told you about.”

The first to take a look at Gavin is the older of the two, with thin, light brown hair and eyes like a hawk. He offers half a wave, rather than getting up for a handshake, and nods respectfully. The other man glances up after a moment, intense gaze coming from a round, freckled face framed in auburn curls. He rises to his feet, coming just short of Gavin's height, and frowns for what feels like ages to Gavin's nerve-wracked perception.

“Michael.” He extends a hand stiffly, and Gavin accepts it with more than a little awkwardness.

“Er, nice to meet you.” Immediately, Michael’s expression shifts to one of confused surprise – not expecting Gavin’s accent. Obviously he expected an American one. Gavin smiles awkwardly. “I’m from Oxford.”

The older man nods with vague interest, but Michael simply shakes his head. “You’re not gonna last a day.”

“No need to be rude, Michael.” Jack chuckles softly and pats Michael on the shoulder, as Gavin considers protesting that they _do_ have farms in England. “Gavin, Michael is my right-hand man. I don’t have anyone else for the ‘and Sons’ part of Pattillo  & Sons, so...” He shrugs lightly, though it makes Gavin feel a bit sad. “And that’s Ryan,” Jack continues with a smile toward the man still at the table. “He’s our on-site veterinarian. Been working with me for a few years now.”

“Hi,” Ryan says simply. Gavin waves at him a little as Michael resumes his seat at the table.

“Well, Gavin, go ahead and take a seat.”

Dinner passes quietly, mostly with Jack asking benign questions about Gavin and living with Geoff. The gentleman happily shares a few stories about Geoff from before Gavin knew him, and Ryan at least chuckles along. Michael, on the other hand, merely eats silently and frowns for the entire meal. He’s first to leave, taking his dishes to the kitchen and vanishing afterward. Ryan excuses himself much more politely and disappears shortly afterward, Jack explaining that the pair lives in another house on the grounds.

“You’ll be staying here in the main house.” As Jack elaborates, he clears up the table and gestures for Gavin to follow him to the kitchen. “You’re welcome to use the kitchen as much as you want, and eat anything that isn’t labeled. There’s a label maker in one of these drawers somewhere, so you can mark food you’d rather not share…”

The rest of the tour passes much the same, but the influx of information overloads Gavin fairly quickly after the long trip and awkward dinner. Jack soothes his worry with a quick ‘but you can always ask me if you have questions’ at the end of each room as they pace through the house. He settles into the guest room with a minimum of unease, finding the mattress comfortable and the ambient light from the digital clock on the nightstand soothing.

What unsettles Gavin is the silence after Jack’s footsteps fade down the hall.

* * *

 

**Day One**

Gavin wakes from a fitful sleep to find the digital clock is actually an alarm - a brutally loud one - set to six o’clock. He squints toward the window at the half-warmed sky and feels around for an ‘off’ button to no avail, finally just grabbing the clock and pulling it into bed with him to peer at the button labels in frustration.

“Bloody - loud, whinging - _prick_ ,” he complains before finally silencing the offensive box. He shoves the thing under the pillow and flops himself back down as if to resume sleep, but a set of rapid, disgustingly cheerful knocks fires off from the door to jolt him awake.

“Gavin! Time to get up! Breakfast in half an hour, you should get a shower and meet us downstairs.” Gavin can nearly hear Jack’s smile already. Despite the bags under his eyes, he drags himself out of bed and replays Jack’s explanations from last night - towels under the sink, turn on the water this way, fan works that way... He’s glad he at least gets a private bathroom to ready in, knowing he’d be several times more awkward having to share with the strangers here, and probably a dozen times more clumsy feeling like someone could walk in on him.

After a shower that manages to spark a little life back into him, Gavin tugs on fresh clothes and heads downstairs, more than a little nervous about the coming day. Nobody warned him about getting up at six, his hair looks terrible, Michael is leveling a cold gaze at him as though assessing a piece of just-below-average poultry...

“Ah, good morning! I made us a special breakfast for your first day - my aunt’s recipe. Eggs, ham, cheese, and shredded potatoes.” Jack gestures at the casserole dish in the middle of the table, and Gavin manages a flattered smile. “Sit, sit. There’s ketchup or salt or whatever, and I can make you some toast?”

While Jack sets about making a stack of toast for the table, Michael pours himself a cup of half coffee, half milk, and Gavin offers him a friendly, if awkward, wave in greeting. They sit quietly for a moment before something occurs to him.

“Where’s Ryan?” Gavin asks, looking around as if he could be hiding behind something in the kitchen.

“He’s not always here for breakfast,” Michael answers with a shrug. He sips his coffee and glances out the window.

“Oh.” Gavin fidgets with the cutlery at his place setting until Jack returns with a mountain of nicely-browned toast.

The conversation progresses much like the night before - primarily Jack asking Gavin light questions like how he slept and what he ate for breakfast at home - except that Michael seems to be actually listening, and at one point shifts the conversation to see if Jack slept well and if he thinks it’ll rain.

Jack clears up the dishes again and Michael sighs through his nose.

“Alright, Gavin,” Michael grumbles. “You’re coming with me.”

The morning sky is still pink around the edges as Gavin follows Michael outside. In the darkness last night, the sheer size of the Pattillo & Sons farmland had remained largely hidden, but now the silhouettes in the distance form real houses and barns. Rows of various crops and white plastic towers stretch as far as he can squint, and cheerful animal noises echo from a few directions.

“Come on.” He jogs a little to catch up with Michael, who strides confidently toward a broad, fenced-off field flecked with pink and black wriggles - distant pigs. As Michael clatters through the gate, he draws the attention of most of the pigs, who squeak with interest and begin to swarm him. “Hey, get in here before one gets out, or else you’ll be the one chasing him down.”

Gavin flails into the enclosure and shuts the gate just in time to stop a little pink and white pig from investigating outside.

“Prince Oinkins!”

Gavin glances up at the source of the sudden shout to discover Ryan sprinting towards him. He scrambles off to the side and Ryan slides to a stop in front of the little pig, patting its head fondly.

“Good, you’re safe. You should know better than to play around the gate, Prince,” he scolds quietly. He looks up at Gavin with a half-smile. “I see you’ve met Prince Oinkins.”

“Er, I guess I have?” Gavin glances between Ryan and Michael, the latter’s expression growing impatient when he realizes Gavin’s completely stopped by the gate. “S-sorry, gotta go - Michael’s waiting...”

Ryan laughs softly. “ _Mi-coo_ , huh?” he teases, exaggerating Gavin’s accent. “Go on, it’s fine.”

Gavin catches up with Michael and babbles some kind of apology, but Michael just waves it off. “The pigs get fed first thing in the morning. Come on and I’ll show you how to mix their food.” A couple of curious pigs waddle into the back of the barn after them, and Michael gently shoos them from the storage room before the lesson commences.

After the pigs are fed, which Gavin manages to help accomplish without making a _complete_ fool of himself, Michael directs him to another barn beside a grazing herd of cows and tells him to look for Ryan for the next part of his first day.

As he walks, Gavin reaches for his phone to check the time and realizes he left it inside. He sighs through his nose and glances up at the sky, wondering if anyone here can tell the time by the position of the sun; he definitely can’t, but it seems like a skill Jack might have. Or Michael might say it’s time to get a watch. He seems like that kind of guy.

He’s much more careful with the cows’ gate than he was with the pigs, though the cows are way less interested in his presence in their pasture. Navigating the ground here takes less effort too, especially since his shoes are already crusted in mud and the dust from mixing food. He tries not to think too much about it yet.

Ryan waves to him from behind a stall in the barn, and a little out-of-place bleat brings his attention to the tiny creature beside the vet.

“Er. Hi? You’ve got a goat,” Gavin states weakly as he gets close. “I mean - Michael sent me over.”

“I figured.” Ryan scoots away from the cow he’d just been milking and pulls the bucket from beneath her. “We’re milking today, and probably cleaning a row of stalls.” His goat bleats helpfully and starts investigating the bucket, which Ryan silently shoos him from doing. “This is Rambert, the youngest goat on the farm. He won’t get in your way.”

“Right.” Gavin pretends to understand why Ryan would have a baby goat following him around.

“Rambert, this is Gavin.” Ryan pats Rambert’s head, oblivious to Gavin’s confusion. “He’s gonna live with us for a while. Don’t be shy, okay?” The goat noses with interest at Gavin’s pant leg before doing an awkward shuffle backward and just watching him. “Haha, he’ll get used to you, I’m sure.”

Gavin genuinely isn’t sure which of them Ryan is talking to.

Milking cows is a lot to get used to; he has to be aware of more than he expected. Ryan points out various indicators of a cow’s mood and whether she’s likely to kick or otherwise protest, and while the actual milking part is fairly simple, keeping his surroundings in mind, the pressure of his hands steady, and the teats aimed properly at the same time proves more than Gavin can handle on his first two or three attempts.

“You’re fine,” Ryan assures him. “Everyone has a first day, you know.” Rambert bleats helpfully, and Gavin chuckles a bit. Seems absurd to be comforted by a little goat, but with his comedic timing, he could be a therapy pet.

“Thanks. Both of you.” Under Ryan’s guidance, Gavin eventually gets into a good rhythm with one of the cows, then another, and after a few of those, Ryan leaves him to his own devices so they can both work at once and get through the herd a bit faster. Afterward, Gavin’s fairly exhausted, but they still need to clean stalls, and after _that_ Ryan announces it’s lunch time.

“Only lunch?” Gavin groans. “It feels like I’ve been out here bloody _years_.” Ryan laughs and just shakes his head, Rambert imitating the gesture beside him.

“You’ll get used to it.”

Gavin rejoins Michael and Jack for lunch, which they eat outside since the weather is so nice. It feels long past time to check Twitter or at least see if work is surviving without him, but when he brings his phone out, it completely fails to find any signal.

“Oh, sorry. There aren’t any cell towers for a long way out. If you need to make a call, you can use the landline,” Jack explains. The color drains from Gavin’s face completely as he stares at his smartphone-turned-expensive-brick.

“You wanna go home yet?” Michael asks, smirking at the clear panic in Gavin’s expression.

“Wh-? No! No, hey, what’s two months without texting, right? I’ll just bung this off and leave it in my room, I guess, and...” He frowns thoughtfully.

“There’s no internet out here either,” Michael warns him.

“Bollocks!”

* * *

 

**Day Two**

Gavin wakes to a soreness he’s never experienced before, and as he reaches over to turn off the blaring alarm, his arm burns. Between lifting feed bags, pushing shit around, and at one point needing to chase Prince Oinkins around to return him to the pigpen, his muscles decide to go on complete strike today. And that’s with Jack giving him most of the afternoon off to watch TV and remind himself that just because there isn’t internet doesn’t mean he’s in medieval times.

He takes a long shower and drags himself down to the kitchen reluctantly. Maybe it would be better just to call this miserable experiment off, but the thought of having to hand over Geoff’s winnings keeps him from reaching for the phone. He’s lost too many bets doing dumb shit; he can stick to one stupid plan for two months. It’s just seventy-something more days now.

“You look like shit.” Michael’s in a good mood this morning, stirring frozen blueberries into his steaming hot oatmeal. Jack frowns and puts a hand on Michael’s shoulder.

“No need to be rude. Come on, he’s not used to this.”

“I’m not being rude, I’m stating fact.” Michael takes a Red Bull from the fridge and sits at the table beside Ryan, who’s in the middle of stirring brown sugar into his own breakfast. “Right, Ryan? Gavin looks like shit.”

Ryan glances up. “I guess.”

Jack makes an exasperated noise and just offers Gavin a bowl. “Have some breakfast, and you can just shadow me today. I work mostly with the crops, and I’m going into town today.”

Fortunately, Jack’s chores for the day are easily to follow. He paces the fields for weeds, checks the sprinkler systems for leaks or misaligned timers, and shoos Rambert away once or twice when he escapes Ryan’s zone of influence. After lunch, during which both Michael and Ryan remain absent, Jack and Gavin get fresh clothes on and load into Jack’s truck to run errands in town.

“So, I - I have to ask,” Gavin begins awkwardly. Jack smiles patiently.

“What is it?”

“Is it weird that Ryan has a goat, or am I weird for thinking it’s weird?”

Jack laughs. “Ryan always has a little friend in every herd on the farm. It’s just a thing of his.”

“Ahh.” Gavin nods sagely. “So that explains Sir Oinkins -”

“Prince,” Jack corrects gently.

“Right. Prince Oinkins and... Edgar? Was that her name?”

“Yes, Edgar’s his favorite cow. And you haven’t met the sheep or the horses yet. You will tomorrow.” Jack pauses a moment. “If you’re still here. Are you holding up okay?”

It’s the first time Gavin’s really put any thought into the question. Even with the internet panic yesterday, he stayed on the surface of the situation, and the TV was a really nice distraction. He frowns and runs a hand through his hair slowly.

“Dunno, actually.” He misses Geoff, and the sounds of the city, and not feeling like his muscles hate him for existing. He misses feeling like he at least _somewhat_ knows what he’s doing. It’s pretty out here, and Jack and Ryan have both been nice enough, but...

“It’s alright. I can’t really imagine what you must be feeling like right now. And honestly, I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to go home.” Jack scratches the back of his neck. “Geoff wanted me to be tough on you, but... I can’t, in good conscience, act like you have to keep up with Michael and Ryan. They’re old hat at this job.”

The only sound for a few moments is the rumble of the truck’s engine, and the crunch of gravel under the tires.

“I don’t want to make a bugger’s muddle of the whole thing,” Gavin starts. “You know? Geoff thinks I’m - well, he and Michael - they think I’m incompetent, right?”

“I doubt it.” Jack smiles sincerely. “You’re fine, Gav. Come on, when we get into town I’ll get you some ice cream, and maybe we can pick up some beers and relax tonight.”

“Bevs?” Gavin smiles back at his host. “I’d like that.”

The pair make stops at the grocery store, liquor store, feed store - in no particular order - and finally a fancy homemade ice cream parlor as Jack had promised. They each have a giant waffle cone full of something delicious and enjoy it sitting on the back of the truck. The familiar sights of roads and cars and banks and traffic lights all help soothe Gavin’s culture shock, and Jack even shows him where there’s a cozy library he can visit with a row of public-use computers so he can get his internet fix now and then. They also agree to come to town for bowling some night, and the prospect of two months here gets that much less daunting.

“Oh, we also have a friend you should meet. Whenever we want games or CDs or something from the Best Buy at the other end of town, we give him a call. He uses his employee discount for us and even delivers. Good kid - a little younger than you and Michael, I think.” Jack beams as he slides back into the driver’s seat and heads back toward Pattillo & Sons. “I think he’s coming by in a couple days. If we’re missing something you want, we can call him tonight or tomorrow.”

Gavin smiles. _Games_. He’d assumed if there was no internet, there would be no video games, but Jack mentions twice over their conversation that they have an XBox of some variety, and alludes to Michael having Mario Party, making Gavin wonder which Nintendo shape he should be on the lookout for. This two months is getting easier and easier, he thinks as he completely forgets the ache in his limbs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I intended this to be a oneshot but oops too much is going on. Also belated apologies if I'm [Showing My Research](http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ShownTheirWork). You can request fic from me, ask about this fic, or generally just say hi at my RT blog, [ryanslostfootage](http://ryanslostfootage.tumblr.com/).


	2. Day Three

**Day Three**

The alarm blares a little more tolerably this morning, and Gavin presses rather than smacks the button to silence it. He stretches comfortably and runs a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. Memories of the night before trickle in - a couple beers with Jack, a few rounds of Halo... He vaguely remembers Ryan carrying Rambert into the house, but shakes that part off as probably a dream.

Ryan and Michael are both at breakfast, but Jack is nowhere to be found. It’s the first time Gavin’s been left to his own devices with the kitchen, but to his relief there’s an unmarked box of toaster pastries in the freezer, so he gets to have something familiar. He sits across the table from Michael and offers half a hot pastry with a smile.

“No thanks.” Michael sips his coffee and barely even glances at Gavin. “Are you actually working today?”

Gavin splutters a little and blushes. “Er, yeah? Of course I am!” He leans back in his seat to ease the suddenly tense space between them. “I worked with Jack all day yesterday,” he protests quietly.

“Right.”

Ryan looks between the pair but proves to be no help at all, simply offering to pour Gavin a cup of coffee when he gets up to fill his own. The rest of breakfast passes in silence, and when Gavin’s done, he’s grateful it’s Ryan beckoning him outside.

“Come on. We’re milking again first.”

While Gavin focuses on what he learned last time, Ryan cleans the stalls again and checks the cows for signs of illness or injury. In the distance, Michael feeds the pigs and tosses a few handfuls of seed near the chicken coop. It’s at least an hour later that Jack makes an appearance, accompanied by a couple strangers carrying a lot of wood.

“Hey, Gavin,” Jack greets as he comes by. He flashes a weary smile and strokes his beard. “Wanna come help with fence repair? We’ll be working all over, but we’re headed for the horse pasture right now.”

“Actually, I’m headed that way after we finish here, Jack,” Ryan interrupts, coming up behind Gavin. He glances down the last aisle of cows left to milk. “I wanted to get the horses brushed before we break for lunch.”

“Cool, maybe I can pry Gavin away from you then.” Jack laughs and gives Gavin a pat on the shoulder that thoroughly knocks the wind from him. “Up to you where you want to be today, Gavin.” He leaves to rejoin the men carrying fencing supplies toward the stables, and Gavin manages a late chuckle once he catches his breath.

The rest of cow care passes peacefully, and Ryan and Gavin spend a few minutes lavishing attention on Edgar, who’s due with her third calf in a few weeks. Ryan’s a bit reluctant to part from her, which Gavin finds simultaneously sweet and a bit weird, especially with Rambert again bumbling around the barn with them. They finally move to the stables where three of the five stalls are occupied.

“Bugger me,” Gavin curses under his breath. “They’re bloody huge!”

Ryan laughs. “You were doing so well with the cows, I almost forgot you were new to this.” He leads Gavin to the first horse, one with white spots across its sandy-brown coat. “This is Patches. He’s Jack’s favorite, and the easiest to get along with.” Patches leans into Ryan’s hand, sniffing for a treat. “If you wanna learn how to ride, I’d teach you on Patches.”

Gavin blushes a little at the (however accurate) assumption he doesn’t know how to ride horses. It feels like something he ought to know - at least, he ought to know _something_ to do on this farm without being taught by the staff. But Ryan’s patient smile reassures him it’s alright, and he pats Patches a little awkwardly behind the ears.

“Alright, next is Edgar XII.” Ryan beams as he moves to the next stall and fondly strokes the rich soil-brown horse. “He’s mine. Isn’t he lovely?”

“The... twelfth?” Gavin questions cautiously. “Am I missing something?” He frowns a bit as Ryan fails to answer, and just offers his hand for Edgar to sniff. After a long pause, Ryan sighs in a way Gavin can’t quite read.

“It’s a name filled with tradition.”

“Uh... right.”

Gavin moves on to the last horse before Ryan is quite ready to part from Edgar, and nearly has his hand over the gate before Ryan’s arm abruptly blocks him.

“Bollocks! Ryan!?” Gavin staggers back.

“Sorry! Sorry. Just, Hidalgo is... Let’s just say he’s _disagreeable_.” The horse in question, a dark grey beast with mottled black across his back, stomps the floor and tosses his head, making displeased noises. Gavin takes another step back, bumping into a ladder.

“Ah!!” He jumps to the side, kicking over a bucket of water and falling to the ground in the forming puddle. Ryan hurries to help him up as another voice sounds from the stable door.

“Good job, loser.” Michael shakes his head, curled bangs falling over his eyes. “You’re supposed to be helping and you make more work for the rest of us.” Gavin can barely hear Michael speaking over the angry noises still coming from Hidalgo, though he gets the gist of it.

“Enough, Michael. Can you get Hidalgo calmed down, please?” Ryan straightens the bucket and helps brush some stray hay and dust from Gavin’s clothes.

“Yeah, yeah.” Michael crosses the floor to Hidalgo’s stall and climbs over his gate easily. He takes up a perch atop the angry horse’s wall and holds out a hand. “Hey, asshole. Chill out, would ya?” Hidalgo stomps again and wriggles his ears. “I know, I know. Gavin looks like trouble to me, too.”

“What is he, a horse whistler?” Gavin squeezes some moisture from his hair as Ryan squints at him in confusion.

“Exactly what is a ‘horse whistler’ supposed to be, Gavin?”

Michael snorts with laughter. “It’s _whisperer_ , dumbass.” He pats Hidalgo’s snout a couple times and wipes a faux tear from his eye with his free hand. “Christ. Horse whistler. I have to tell Jack about that one.”

Gavin looks to Ryan for help, but the vet’s face has already cracked into a broad smile. “ _Whistler..._ ”

“Bollocks.” Gavin sighs. “I’ll go help Jack with the fence, I guess.” He jogs from the stable before either of the others can say anything, only sliding to a stop when he reaches where the two strangers are arguing over a slab of wood. Beside them, Jack hammers away at a new fencepost, oblivious to their noise.

“That’s why they say ‘measure twice, cut once,’ Kerry!” Gavin hears from the scruffier one as he gets close. “What made you think we’d need a piece of wood this wide?”

“ _You_ cut this stack, Miles! _I_ know how to cut boards, unlike _some_ people!” The shorter one holds up another board with a poorly-angled cut at the end.

“Er, pardon?” Gavin interrupts. “Jack? Did you still want help with the fencing?” Both strangers look at him with surprise, as if they hadn’t even noticed his approach.

“You’re right on time, Gavin! I was about to fire these two for the day.” Kerry makes a noise of protest, but Jack just holds up a hand to silence him. “Go help Ryan with the horses. Miles, you can stay.”

“Why does Miles get to stay?” Kerry gestures a mixture of anger and confusion.

“I’m just separating you two,” Jack answers patiently. “Ah, though before you go - Gavin, that’s Kerry; Kerry, that’s Gavin. Now you may go.” Jack props up a board against the new post and gets a level from his toolbelt. 

Kerry sighs and brushes his pale hair out of his eyes. “Whatever, whatever. Later, guys.” He waves and strides off, and Miles offers Gavin a hand.

“I’m Miles, I’m cooler than Kerry,” he says with a shining grin.

Gavin accepts the handshake and chuckles a little. “Gavin. Er, Gav, if you like.” He appreciates the energetic warmth Miles projects. “What’re we doing?”

Jack taps the board he’s holding up. “Right now, one or both of you are holding this while I get the nails positioned. Don’t take too long deciding.” Immediately, Miles’ finger flies to the tip of his nose.

“Nose goes!” he shouts.

“Wot?”

“Both of you it is,” Jack announces, and Miles whines faintly but helps Gavin get a firm grip on the board.

Before long, the trio have a solid section of fence replaced in the horse pasture, and Jack announces it’s time to break for lunch. Miles runs off toward the stable, and Gavin heads toward the main house with Jack.

“So what’s their story?” Gavin asks.

“I guess you could call them stable boys,” Jack teases. “They have rooms in the same house as Michael and Ryan, but they prefer to keep to their own thing. Operate on a different schedule from us, and all that.” He shrugs. “They mostly work with the horses and sheep, when we’re not planting or harvesting crops.” Jack slows to a stop outside the main house and peers around the grounds. “Coming up soon, though, they’re essential staff. Really a big help.”

Gavin nods and stops beside Jack. “What are we doing for lunch?”

“Nice transition.” Jack pats Gavin on the shoulder warmly. “I was thinking we could order something from town. Ray was gonna come in today, he could bring us pizza or something.” He pauses. “Ray is the kid I was telling you about yesterday. Brings us games and everything.” Gavin nods. “You want pizza?”

“Has anyone ever answered that question with ‘no’?” Jack laughs and gestures for Gavin to follow him inside through the mudroom.

“I doubt it. Come on in and get into something dry, and I’ll call Ray.”

Gavin quickly grabs a clean shirt and pants from the tidy square shelving on the mudroom wall. He learned day one that Jack doesn’t allow the grime from the farm into the house, and everyone who comes in straight from work is required to change here. Shyness isn’t an option, either, though Gavin appreciates that Jack gives him a decent amount of space when he can. He gets the room to himself for the moment, since Jack only needed to shed his boots before leaving to use the phone.

He sighs wearily at the lingering moisture in his clothes from both sweat and his embarrassing fall in the stable. He’s lucky he didn’t do a lot worse to himself, but he still cringes at recalling Michael’s expression. As far as first, second, and infinite impressions go, he’s making pretty awful ones where the not-Pattillo Son is concerned.

Gavin slides his clothes on and tosses the old ones in the hamper marked for guests. Jack, Ryan, and Michael each have labels with their names, and there’s another with “Kerry & Miles” scrawled on it that Gavin hadn’t taken notice of until now. He wonders idly if everyone does their laundry in the main house as he pads barefoot toward the kitchen.

“Yeah, sausage and pepperoni on that one.” Jack glances up as Gavin enters, immediately covering the mouthpiece on the phone. “I forgot to ask what you like on your pizza,” he half-whispers, and Gavin shrugs.

“Meat?”

Jack smiles. “Better yet, make it two sausage and pepperoni,” he resumes telling the phone. “Yeah, you know the rest. See you then.” He hangs up and claps his hands together. “Pizza’s coming in a little less than an hour. Wanna play some games?”

“Hell yeah!”

They spend the following fifty-six minutes thoroughly trashing each other in Halo, Gavin tending to win if he can get Jack out of a vehicle, and Jack tending to... well, head for a vehicle as quickly as possible. 

“Screw this, I’m gonna build a house.” Jack stands up just as the doorbell rings, and his expression brightens. “That’ll be Ray!” He barely beats an excited Gavin to the door and opens it.

On the other side is a scrawny, tan boy with glasses and a worn-out pizza delivery case. He grins lopsidedly from his scruff and offers Jack a fist-bump in greeting.

“Ey! Four pizzas, man, and a couple of games.” He looks at Gavin and tilts his head. “Yo, I’m Ray. You must be Gabby or whatever.”

Gavin’s cheeks quickly stain pink. “Er, it’s Gavin... G-Gavin with a ‘v’...”

“Kay.” Ray strides inside casually and sets his pizza bag in the kitchen. “You guys playin’ Halo? Cool. Where’s Michael?”

“Probably working. I’ll go let everyone know there’s pizza.”

Jack vanishes out to the grounds and Ray stretches out on the couch, taking over the XBox to play something else. Gavin stands in the kitchen, squirming and periodically glancing over at the living area to see if Ray is looking at him or not.

“You okay, dude?” Ray asks eventually, though his eyes never leave the screen.

“Er, yeah! Just... here.”

“Get yourself some pizza, man, or something. You’re making me itchy.” Gavin scrambles to get himself a plate and a slice of pizza, just to have something to do with his hands, and Ray laughs quietly at his eagerness.

Michael and Ryan arrive just in time to rescue Gavin from himself, filtering through the mudroom and into the kitchen before Gavin starts grasping for something stupid to say just to kill the silence. The vet takes a slice of pizza and stands on the crease between the hardwood of the kitchen and the living room carpet. Michael piles a few slices on his own plate and sits at Ray’s feet.

“Dude, Ray, I have to tell you this stupid shit Gavin said today...”

Gavin braces himself through the reminder of his ‘whistler’ invention earlier, and when he finishes his slice of pizza he simply slinks out of the room and heads outside.

“You’re not staying in to hang out, Gavin?” Jack asks, approaching with Miles at his side.

“Er, no... I thought I’d... The pigs need lunch, right?” Gavin brushes his hand through his hair. “Thanks anyway.”

Jack frowns, but Miles just laughs. “Means more Ray for us!” he says cheerfully. “See ya later, Gavin!”

Fortunately, there’s still some of the pigs’ food already mixed, so it’s a simple task for Gavin to distribute it through the squeaking masses. Prince Oinkins follows him around with dedication until every last pig is fed, then trots off to fill in with the others happily.

Gavin perches on the fence and watches the pigs eat. Discomfort bubbles under his skin. Sure, now he feels a little more at ease with the animals - some of them, anyway - but the people... No, not even that. The _Michael_.

Maybe he’s overreacting, he thinks, but he really can’t shake the feeling that Michael doesn’t like him. And Ryan is friendly enough, but he has to think Gavin’s as incompetent as Michael does. It’s not difficult to see why, with his clumsiness and careless speech, and...

His thoughts are interrupted by a splash of mud and a sharp ache rippling down his side. Beside him, Rambert bleats at the fencepost he’s just rammed that knocked Gavin off-balance and onto the ground. It takes Gavin another moment to realize the screechy squawk he’d just heard was his own noise as he fell. Excellent.

Rambert leans over and sniffles at his hair, chewing a strand of it curiously.

“Bollocks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops this fic is turning out wayyy longer than I meant it to. Please leave feedback, I'd love to hear if there are corrections or suggestions to be made for the future. And don't worry, I definitely won't be writing out the whole sixty days. That would be completely ridiculous, however tempting.
> 
> As always, you can find me, say hi, and make requests at my RT blog, [ryanslostfootage](http://ryanslostfootage.tumblr.com).


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